The Bet
by Domicile
Summary: It was quite possibly the most indecisive way for her to tell me she’s in love with me. Cam oneshot


"I got to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm kind of in love with you."

She said it so casually, at first I thought she was joking. But she wasn't. She stared at me with those intense blue eyes of hers, completely unwavering. I blushed through every layer of my skin. It wasn't possible. She couldn't mean it. There was just no way.

"What?" I finally say again, my voice shaking. How was I supposed to respond to such a confession? What could I say that wouldn't sound like a rejection or an acceptance?

She shrugs, pulling out a knife much too large for her task of cutting off the uppermost layer of a ham. "I'm kind of in love with you." She says again, stuffing a bit of ham into her mouth.

"What are you trying to say?" I demand of her, like it isn't blatantly obvious.

"It isn't blatantly obvious?" She asks through chewing, carving off another piece.

"What is 'kind of in love?'" My heartbeat picks up, like instead of sitting in front of the computer in my kitchen, I'm actually out running. Sprinting. Damn it, heart!

She shrugs again. "I'm like ninety percent sure."

"Ninety percent sure?" I'm dumbfounded, frowning at her. "Don't you just kind of know yay or nay? How can you be ninety percent sure?"

"Yay or nay?" She repeats, throwing a grin my way.

I glance at the thermostat because my temperature just rose like ten degrees. "Did you have to work up to that? You know, start out completely unsure and then build up to ten percent, and awhile after that, fifty percent."

She chuckles and rips off a particularly huge chunk of ham. "Why are we discussing this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was just letting you in on it since you get so mad when I keep secrets from you. I didn't realize we were going to talk about it."

I blink stupidly at her. "How could I not want to talk about it, Sam? You're my best friend."

"Well, you're my best friend and I don't want to talk about it." She bobs a shoulder. "Carly." She says my name like its silk rolling off her tongue.

We stare at each other for a while until there is a knock on the door and in strolls Freddie. His eyes are straining down at his computer screen, balancing it on his arm in one hand, and shoving the rest of a jelly donut into his mouth with the other. "Hey," he grumbles out around his donut.

I turn curtly away from Sam as she raises her eyebrows at me and resumes consuming mass portions of my ham. "Something wrong? You look glib." I shoot at Freddie and watch him slump into the kitchen and drop into the seat next to mine.

"I am glib." He mumbles, setting his laptop down off to the side.

I bob my head. "Oh."

He lifts his head to stare at me with a furrowed brow. "Well aren't you going to ask why?"

I smile. "Why?"

He sighs and rests his head against the counter. "Because the one I love won't love me back."

"Freddie," I start with a roll of my eyes, "we've talked about this. You know I-"

"Yeah, yeah." He cuts me off, sitting up suddenly. "But you shouldn't decide so hastily. It takes time, and precision, and careful study. And dates, lots of dates. And kissing. Lots and lots of kissing."

I grin. "The answer's still no."

"Oh, come on!" He shouts, throwing his hands up and heading to the refrigerator. "I need juice."

"I wouldn't push your luck, Fred-weird." Sam says from in front of what used to be a full plate of ham, but was now almost empty. "Carly's got options now."

I stare at her with my mouth agape, opening and closing it like a fish. "Sam!" I stutter out.

Freddie pulls back from the refrigerator with a container of juice and proceeds to fetch himself a glass with only a glance thrown Sam's way. "Carly will one day realize all the boys she likes now will just not measure up in the future. Someday, Sam, someday."

Sam props her head up on her hand to stare at him with a twisted smile on her face. "What if you aren't competing against a boy?"

"Sam!" I scold, my face so red I could be used as a flashlight. "Sam, no!"

"What do you mean 'not competing against a boy?'" Freddie frowns. "Who else would I compete against?"

Sam shrugs. "Me."

I bury my face in my hands as I mentally beat the shit out of both of them. "Sam…" I whine under my breath.

"There's no way." I hear Freddie say, so I lift up to peak over the tips of my fingers. He's standing in front of the refrigerator with his hands on his hips and his juice forgotten on the counter.

"Sure there is, Fred-weenie." Sam smiles, swallowing the last of the ham.

He licks his lips, pausing for a long moment to think about it. "You're in love with Carly?" He demands.

Sam nods, then shrugs. "Ninety percent sure."

"Well, she'll definitely choose me over you!" Freddie declares, bringing the all powerful pointer finger on his right hand swinging down through the air to stab Sam in the shoulder.

"You want to bet?" Sam asks coolly, brushing his finger off like it was dust.

"Don't bet!" I interject in a loud voice, but of course, they don't hear me.

Freddie brings himself up to his full height, oozing false confidence. "Whoever gets a date from Carly wins?"

Sam grins evilly and shakes her head. "Whoever gets a kiss from Carly wins."

Freddie stares at her with a shocked look on his face, like this one step further ruins his plans. "O-okay!"

"You can't kiss her, you can't set up a trap that makes her fall on top of you and kiss you, nothing. She has to decide she wants to kiss you and do it. Got it?" Sam says, standing up from the table and snagging Freddie's juice off the counter.

"Don't I have any say in this?" I question loudly, but again, ignored.

"And the loser…?" Freddie begins, but trails off because he isn't half the criminal mastermind Sam is.

Sam drains the rest of the juice Freddie pulled from the refrigerator. "When you lose, you have to wear a dress and make-up every day for a month."

"You mean 'if.'" He corrects.

"No, I meant 'when.'"

He glares at her. "Okay, if I win, you have to shave you head."

We stare at Sam, watching the workings going on behind her eyes. Was she confident enough to risk shaving her head? She finally nods. "Deal." She spits in her hand ands grabs his to shake before he can move away.

He grimaces. "I hope you can live without your hair."

She grins. "Freddie, you've been rejected more times than the rest of the population added together. She hasn't turned me down once. You were stupid to make this bet." She checks her watch, pulling her hand back from Freddie. "I got to go. See, Freddie? Your first opportunity to work your mojo has come up! Be joyous." She slides her fingers down my arm as she walks past. "Later, cupcake."

I watch her exit with chills running from where her fingers touched me on down my body. Freddie clears his throat and I jolt my attention back over to him. "What?"

"She doesn't really have a chance, does she?" He asks and his eyes are almost pleading with me.

I glare at him. "Oh now you want my opinion?" I roll my eyes and head upstairs.

---

It's been three days since Sam and Freddie made the bet. Three long days of Freddie begging me to kiss him and offering to pay me. I haven't seen Sam since the bet was struck, though. Not that contact was lost or anything, I talked to her on the phone yesterday and we texted for like three hours the day before yesterday. It's just kind of odd to come downstairs three days in a row and not find my unruly best friend raiding my fridge. Today's my lucky day, though. Its Wednesday, 11 AM, and Sam is propped up on the couch watching some blah show on television and eating a bag of pork rinds.

"Hey, Carly girl." She greets cheerfully when I drop down on the couch next to her. She spares me a singular glance before refocusing on the show.

I steal a pork rind and stare shamelessly at her. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

She frowns at me. "I was here like three days ago."

I shrug. "Feels longer. Your butt imprint was almost completely out of the couch cushions."

She grins. "That's why I sat down to have a snack instead of joining you in the shower."

My cheeks flood with color. "Right. Those are the only two options."

"I'm glad you see things my way." Her lip quirks at the side and she turns her attention away from me. And her hand drops onto my knee. Doesn't move, just sits there. Like I sat down next to her just to provide a hand rest for her.

"Um, Sam." I mumble. "Sam." I point down at my knee, drawing her eyes there. They flick back to mine almost immediately.

"What?" Her voice is full of innocence and insincerity.

I dig my teeth into my lip. "Why haven't you been here in a few days? I thought you would be here like every day after the bet you made with Freddie."

She chuckles low in her throat and twists to sit cross-legged on the couch, pulling her hand back into her lap. "You miss me that much? Or is Freddie being just that annoying?"

"I just thought you were more competitive than that." I shrug. Why did I want to have this conversation?

She smiles. "I am, but this isn't a real bet."

I open and close my mouth a few times before responding, "its not?"

"Of course not." She replies automatically. "I already told you I wasn't going to like _pursue_ you or anything. I just told you to tell you. I only made the bet with Freddie because I know you won't give into him, so we'll stay at a stalemate and that's fine with me."

"Since when is a stalemate fine with you?" I demand incredulously. "You're Sam, you have to win."

She shrugs. "Come on, Carly. Do you really want me fighting for your affections anyway?"

I stare blindly and open-mouthed at her for a long moment. Do I? "I guess not."

"You guess not?"

"Yeah."

She pushes herself up to standing, running a hand through my hair on her way around the couch. "Can I take a shower?"

"Yeah, why?"

"The water's out. My mom got mad when it went cold on her and attacked the pipes." She smirks at me, not wanting to fully smile about her mother.

"Of course she did." And not being able to stop myself as she begins to climb the stairs, I call, "Sam?"

She stops, turning a little to look back at me. "Yeah?"

"Is that what you mean by ninety percent sure? You don't want to pursue me?" I ask.

Her lips twist into somewhere between a smile and a frown. "Yeah, cupcake."

---

It saddens me. Not a lot, but a little. And that's still too much because I shouldn't want her to, even in the slightest. But I want her to want to, I guess. I want her to want to be more than friends with me; I want her to take the bet seriously. I want her to pursue me. Not that I'd give in, because I'm not gay. Besides, how could I make her take the bet seriously? Actually, thinking about it, I probably could force her to go after me. She's confidant that Freddie has zero chance, which means she doesn't really have to try. But what if I were to give Freddie a chance? What if I were to go on a date with Freddie? Then she might think there was a chance I'd kiss him and she'd lose the bet and then she'd have to shave her head. And Sam will do anything to save her hair!

God, I'm such a bitch for even thinking of ways to get my best friend to pursue me. Especially when I have no intention of being with her. But somehow, it feels like she's playing with me by telling me she's interested, but not _that_ interested. It was quite possibly the most indecisive way for her to tell me she's in love with me. Actually, me forcing her to go for the bet might help her out. Instead of being only mostly sure, she could be completely sure. Although, I guess it might take things in the opposite direction and make her realize she doesn't want to be with me. But that's not bad either, right? Since I don't want to be with her, it would put us back at best friends and make everything right again.

"Carls? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Sam's standing in the middle of my room, dragging a brush through her long, blonde, wet locks. We actually go through this every time she brushes her hair: I stare at her and she asks me that question. There's just something mesmerizing about it.

"Do you, uh, need some help?" I offer, shaking the heaviness settling over my eyes.

She grins. "No, I, uh, do not."

Something inside me feels like its on fire. I need to do something about this; I need Sam to participate. There's only one thing to do. I stand haphazardly. "I'll be right back." I tell her and power walk out of the room and down the stairs.

Once I'm outside Freddie's apartment, I pause. This is a terrible idea. What kind of friend am I to even consider? A horrendous one. The worst friend ever. I should turn around now and march right back upstairs and plead for Sam's forgiveness just for thinking about it. Only I can't. I feel like my feet are glued to the floor and my hand is rising to knock on the door of its own accord. No, hand, no! I did not raise you to be a delinquent! Listen to me!

Too late. My fist falls hard against the door twice and the sound of movement within the Benson apartment reaches my ears. Shit. I hate myself. I should go jump off the roof or into a tub of hot syrup. Something. Anything.

Freddie pulls open the door and, upon seeing it's me, steps out into the hall, shutting it quietly behind himself. "Carly? What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to spend alone time with Sam." He glares. "Should I be worried?"

Don't speak. Burst into tears, tap dance, break his arm; do anything but what you came here for. "Sorry." I mutter.

"Its fine," he clarifies fast. "I'm just surprised you're here." He grins. "In a good way. It's a good surprise."

Call him a nerd and run away. Bite his neck and tell him he's now a vampire. Please, really, anything. "Do you have a second?"

He nods, glancing back at the door behind him worriedly. "Sure, yeah. What's on your mind?"

"Do you," don't do it. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

---

"Why do you spend the night every time I invite you over?"

Sam grins at me from behind her pudding bowl, which consequently is the size of a bathtub. A little bit of chocolate pudding leaks out the side of her mouth and she mashes her sleeve against it. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing." I say with my eyebrows raised. "Merely stating an observation."

She shrugs, shoveling pudding into her mouth. "So where did you go while I was brushing my hair?"

Oh great, now that I've done such a stupid, deceitful thing, I now have to lie, too. "Oh, you know, just came downstairs for a minute." I never said I was a _good_ liar.

"For what?" And unfortunately, my best friend has a brain rivaling that of a mafia boss, so she already knows I'm trying to hide something.

"Something… to drink. I was thirsty." My voice cracks. Great time to hit puberty, voice! I'm only trying to lie so Sam will want me, not to steal the Constitution or anything!

"Are you lying to me, Carly?" Sam asks, setting down her pudding bowl and taking a seat next to me on the couch.

I steal a glance at her, but try to hold my focus on the television. "What would make you think that?"

"Well, for one, you're sweating pretty badly. " She yanks my head to the side to stare into my eyes. "And you haven't looked me in the eyes since you came back up to see if I wanted to watch a movie. Did I mention the shaking?"

"Okay!" I exclaim. "Okay, so it kills me to lie! It does bad stuff to me when I try to lie!"

"I don't get what you're trying to lie about! Did you do something bad while you were down here?" Her eyes light up. "Oh my god, Carls, tell me everything!"

"It isn't like that!" I snap. "I just, I just did something I'm not entirely sure was the right decision."

She rolls her eyes and heads back into the kitchen. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"You don't?"

"Nah, your idea of a bad choice is always like you could've picked between a cheeseburger and tacos and you picked the cheeseburger, but later realized how much you actually wanted tacos." She wrinkles her nose. "Not interesting."

"Oh, sorry to be boring." I say, flouncing back against the couch.

She shakes her head. "You aren't boring."

"Just not interesting."

"You chose me as your best friend." She gobbles some pudding. "That's interesting."

I blush for some reason at her words.

---

"So, when do you want to go on a date, then?"

I clamp a hand hard and fast over Freddie's mouth. "OMG, Freddie, keep your voice down!"

We're in the kitchen and Sam's face down on the couch, but that doesn't mean she isn't awake and can't hear us. I can't risk it. Its weird, since the reason I'm going on a date with Freddie at all is to get her attention and yet I'm trying to keep it from her. I guess I kind of wanted it to be one of those things that accidentally slips out after the fact. Like how Freddie and Sam kissed, and Sam garbled it out to me while high. Oh, that's still so irksome! How could they kiss at all, let alone not tell me? But I'm not going to go off on that because that was a long time ago. And its not like I _really_ cared that much, anyway. Really, I didn't. So what if I did? They're my best friends, they should have told me.

"When do you want to go on a date?" Freddie whispers, a giant smile inhabiting his face.

I try my damnedest not to frown or roll my eyes. So difficult. "How about tomorrow night?"

"So soon?"

"Why? Is that a problem?"

"N-no. It's fine."

"Then why are you stuttering?"

"I'm just a bit nervous, okay? This was kind of short notice and, and you know how I feel about you!"

"We can call it off if-"

"No! No! I'm not _that_ nervous."

I roll my eyes at him. "Well, okay then. Tomorrow night it is." I let my gaze drift back over to Sam, letting it rest on the blonde curls bunched around the back of her head. "Maybe you should go. It looks like its time for bed."

"Its only nine o' clock."

I glare at him. "Maybe you should go, it looks like its time for bed." I say again with as much venom as I can muster.

He puts his hands up in surrender. "I get it, I'm going. I'll see you tomorrow."

When he's finally out the door, I sigh and lean into the counter. My reprieve is short-lived as Sam flips over, clearly wide awake, and says, "You're going on a date with Freddie? What could he possibly be blackmailing you with?"

I sigh again, even more heavily. "He's not blackmailing me."

She sits up, her eyes wide. "No way."

"I told him I would go on a date with him." I say with a shrug.

She comes over to me, poking at my face and neck. "Who are you and what did you do with Carly Shay?"

I smile glibly at her. "I'll go get another movie, start the popcorn?"

---

Sam doesn't mention my date with Freddie again until we're upstairs in my bed, around two in the morning. She changes into pajamas and slips into my sheets, waiting for me to shut off the light and climb in next to her. A few minutes pass and then suddenly, she pins me down into the bed. Her hands are wrapped around my arms, her legs pressing down on my thighs. Her face is so close to mine I can still see it clearly in the dark, feel her breath on my face, which is, might I add, minty since I just forced her to brush her teeth.

"What do you want me to do?" She asks in a low voice, adding more pressure to my thighs as she sits back, relinquishing her grip on my arms a little.

I lick my lips, staring somewhat blindly up at her in the darkness. My body feels hot with hers pressed so tightly to it in certain areas. I can feel a tingle starting low somewhere and spreading. My heart picking up. "What do you mean?"

"Are you disappointed that I'm not going after you? Is that what you want? You want me to chase you?" She sounds almost sad as she questions me.

I dig my teeth into my lip as the truth comes up to press against my teeth, but I really don't want to tell her the truth. "What would make you think that?"

"Come on, Carly. That boy has been chasing you since sixth grade! And now, when I tell you I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you and make a stupid bet with Freddie, suddenly you want to go on a date with him? How stupid do you think I am?" She hisses, her grip tightening, her face moving down to mine again.

"Sam…"

"Never mind." Her face is so close to mine, the tip of her nose is touching mine. "I don't care. Go ahead and date Freddie." She releases me and turns over.

"Sam…" I say her name a few more times, but she doesn't respond, and eventually I hear her breathing even out. I'm such a douche.

---

Sam left first thing in the morning, finishing off the rest of the Cocoa Puffs and Peppy Cola. She acted normal when she spoke to me, but she still rushed out really quickly for her. Normally, Sam would laze around my loft until something came up. I tried to explain to her a few times why I was going out with Freddie, but she'd just change the subject or walk away.

So here I sit, in a cute yellow dress, across from Freddie as he rambles about something, I haven't really been paying attention, on our first date. I should never have asked him on a date. I'm probably going to hurt him so much when he finds out I was only doing this to get at Sam. I should have thought about that a long time ago. Freddie's one of my best friends. How could I do this to him? Sam _is_ my best friend. How could I do this to her?

"You don't really want to be here, do you?"

These words alone cut through my stupor and I glance up at him. "Sure I do."

"Than why have you been staring out the window this whole time?"

I shrug, frowning. "I'm just a little distracted. Sam and I weren't on the best of terms when she left this morning."

He nods like he understands, but we both know he doesn't. No one really understands my relationship with Sam. We're close like best friends should be, but in some ways, we are so much closer. And physically, we've probably always walked right passed those barriers. She's the only person I've never held myself back from.

"She thinks you're blackmailing me and that's why I'm going out with you." I admit, taking a sip of water.

Freddie looks around the restaurant like he wants one more moment in the dream before acknowledging reality. "Did you tell her you're going out with me because of the bet?"

That's mostly true. "I tried to, but she didn't want to listen."

"I have to admit, I was really surprised you chose me." Freddie says, leaning back in his chair and dropping his fork in his spaghetti. "Really surprised. I thought for sure you would just kiss Sam so she didn't have to shave her head, and then, somehow, weasel down my punishment to something much smaller."

I shrug. That would have been a reasonable way to go about the situation. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do."

He frowns. "There's a chance that when you get back from a date with me you'll kiss Sam? What a way to destroy a guy's self esteem."

"I don't think Sam would let me kiss her if I wanted to, right now." I admit, playing with my lasagna.

"She was that mad?"

"No, she was that hurt." I look back up to meet his gaze. "You guys don't get to see the side of Sam I do. She's a lot more sensitive than you think, especially when it comes to our relationship. That's why I'm surprised she told me she was in love with me at all, since that could potentially destroy what we have now. Me going on a date with you, she probably took it as some sort of rejection."

"Right," He snorts. At the look on my face, he adds, "I'm sorry. I'm still trying to picture a sensitive Sam."

I glare at him. "Could you just listen to me? Be my friend for a moment instead of a guy who wants to get into my pants?"

"But I-"

"Freddie."

"Fine."

I sigh, leaning back in my chair and stretching my legs. "I feel like I'm doing something really wrong."

"By going out with me?"

"No, by going out with you right after she tells me she's pretty sure she's in love with me. I mean, even if our relationship was different, I guess that's still cruel, isn't it?"

Freddie stares at me for a long moment, a defeated look on his face. "Do you want to go back home?"

I think about it for a moment before shaking my head. "We're already out. Might as well make the best of it. The damage has already been done."

"I love it when a girl says that to me on our first date."

I grin at him. "You know Freddie, you aren't the one for me, but you sure are one hell of a friend."

He smiles. "Don't you ever forget it."

---

I'm standing in front of Sam's house. I had my date with Freddie the night before last and she hasn't returned my calls or texts since. I was worried about hurting Freddie, but I think Sam got all the pain from what I did.

I knock for what feels like the hundredth time. "Sam! Come on, Sam! I'm sorry! Please talk to me! I'm really, really sorry!"

Finally I hear movement beyond the door, the lock being undone, and a mess of curly blonde hair appears, but it's attached to the head of a much older face. Sam's mom is very much an older version of Sam, but with squinty, brown eyes instead of ice blue like Sam.

"What is with all the noise so early in the morning?" Ms. Puckett says, rubbing at her blurry eyes.

"Its one o' clock in the afternoon." I tell her, biting into my lip.

"What's with all the noise so early in the afternoon?" She corrects, shifting her weight and fighting a yawn.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, but is Sam home?"

Ms. Puckett looks back into the house behind her for a second and then back at me. "Nope, and I don't know where she is. That girl's always off doing something. You want to leave a message?"

"Uh, no." I mutter. "Did she say where she was going?"

"Mighta mentioned something about food when she was screamin' in my ear about cops on at the door about an hour ago." Ms. Puckett shrugged. "If you find her, tell her I need some more cream for, well, she'll know what you're talking about." She winks at me in a very disturbing way and heads back inside, slamming the door.

There are a million places Sam likes to eat, from fast food to restaurants to grocery stores, and it takes me all afternoon to search every one I find in the immediate area. I spread out a little farther, but I don't find her and its dark before I get back home.

Instead of taking the elevator, I stalk up the stairs. I should have known she wouldn't be at home, she never is, and her being out and about looking for food, well, I'm not going to find her in that situation either. She could be anywhere in Seattle. I knew I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have asked Freddie out, I shouldn't have tried to make her participate in a dumb-ass bet she wasn't interested in. I should have been thankful that she wasn't interested. But I'm a dumbass too. I'm sorry, Sam. Hopefully she'll call me soon and I can apologize until she forgets about the mistakes I've made in the last week.

"You're home late."

And there she is. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a plateful of food in front of her; she's my Sam for sure. I want to run over and hug her, squeeze her until she beats me up, but I don't. I drop my bag off to the side and lean against the door, my heart pounding in my ears.

"You haven't been answering your phone." I say, my legs going all wobble-y as I head over to sit next to her on the couch.

She sets her plate down, shrugging. "I didn't know what to say."

"Neither did I, but I was still calling."

We stare at each other for a long moment. "Freddie was over earlier when I got here." She finally says, snagging a piece of bacon off the plate and biting into it. "I just asked him how the date went and he kind of exploded."

"What do you mean?" I ask cautiously.

"Well, he rambled for a long time, than he got angry and yelled for a few minutes about how unfair life is, then he stormed out saying, 'I can't believe I actually lost to you'." She chuckles softly. "It was the most entertaining Freddie has ever been."

"Mmhmm." I press my lips together, staring into her blue eyes, which seem to be getting brighter and sparkle more and more with each passing moment.

"I guess you really wanted me to fight for your affections." She chuckles, and when I don't chuckle with her, she frowns. "Oh, come on, kid, I was joking."

"But I did." So true it kind of scares me. "I do." I correct, looking up into her eyes. "I guess I…" and not being able to really communicate what's going on inside my head with words, I lean over and press my lips to hers. They're warm and supple and taste like bacon.

She licks her lips when I lean away. "Guess I don't have to shave my head. And Freddie has to wear a dress for the next month!"

"Please go a little easier on him than that."

"But, Carly-"

I crawl a little closer to her, kissing her on the mouth once more. This time I linger a little longer, enjoying the feel, the taste of bacon, the fact that its Sam and I've just recently realized how badly I want this. I go to pull back again, but she's opening her mouth to protest and I take the opportunity to try pushing things a little farther and I slip my tongue inside just far enough to count and feel my lips mold to hers like we've been kissing since the day we met. Eventually, I pull back and sit back on my side of the couch. Sam stares at me a little lost for a moment, but eventually falls back to her normal self.

"So, from what I've gathered, you are kind of in love with me." Sam shrugs, picking up a second piece of bacon.

"Kind of in love?"

"Ninety percent sure."

I roll my eyes. "You are so ridiculous."


End file.
